


Not Without

by TLynn



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Post-Series, Romance, Spiritual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-05
Updated: 2011-07-05
Packaged: 2017-10-21 01:55:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TLynn/pseuds/TLynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They can’t live, or die, without each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Without

There were flowers on her grave. Large flowers in full bloom, each petal alive with the colors of a tiger’s eye.   
She knelt down and picked one up, brought it to her nose and inhaled its rich scent. She returned it to the   
others gently and stood again, her eyes wandering down the length of rocks. She could feel him here, could   
sense the depth of his pain and his loss in the obvious care with which each stone had been placed.

She hadn’t needed to see her burial, though she could have if she had chose. She’d felt moving on was the   
right - pragmatic, even - thing to do. But she couldn’t make herself move on. Not when she could still feel   
him so clearly.

She still ached for him, too. Finally, she could tell him.

* * *

The Raptor was nestled amongst a small grouping of trees about one hundred yards from the gravesite. She   
walked along the worn path with easy steps, all the while remembering her struggle with the simplest of   
movements the last time she’d been here. It hadn’t been all that long ago, really.

The sun had just begun to set, casting a soft glow through the trees. She saw him immediately, a dark figure   
against the orange light as he worked. He appeared to be packing up to leave: two duffel bags sat inside the   
open door of the ship and she watched as he pulled down a few last items of clothing from a clothesline,   
stuffing them into one bag. He took the clothesline down next, then untied a bundle of branches, scattering   
them. He broke apart a fire pit, tossing the stones away and scattering the ash and dirt with his foot. He   
carefully poured water from a bucket into a canteen before setting them next to the bags. He surveyed his   
surroundings carefully before climbing into the ship himself.

He was in the pilot’s seat when she reached him, pressing an assortment of buttons and checking a number   
of gauges. He looked serious and she had to smile. _You can take the Admiral out of the fleet, but not the  
Admiral out of the Admiral._

“Bill.”

His head snapped at the sound of her voice, but he didn’t jump, his eyes didn’t widen in surprise when he   
saw her. He looked tired, worn. He wore the same clothes as when she last saw him and his face was scruffy   
with a few days’ growth of beard.

“Am I dreaming?” he asked.

“No,” she said, smiling, and made her way over to sit in the seat next to him. Her smile faded as she settled   
into the chair and a chill passed through her, remembering that this was where she had died. She recovered   
quickly and met his eyes, glistening with unshed tears.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I came to see you,” she said.

He reached out a tentative hand to her, but pulled back, unsure. She could see his mind working, could see   
him struggle to believe what he saw before him. He’d told her once how she’d turned him into a believer, but   
this might have been pushing it. His eyes traveled the length if her body, stopping at the ring - his ring - she   
wore around her neck on a chain.

“You can touch me,” she assured him, reaching her hand over and slipping it in his. She gasped in surprise   
when he pulled her over to his lap and wrapped his arms around her, holding her against him with all his   
strength. He buried his head in her neck and she felt his tears against her skin. She cried, too, the sensations   
of his presence and why she was able to feel them overwhelming her.

After several long minutes, he lifted his head to press his lips against hers in a long, welcoming kiss. When   
they broke apart, breathing heavily, they laughed. She felt as though her heart could burst through her chest.

He ran his hand through her hair and it seemed it wasn’t until that moment that he realized it was indeed hers,   
not the wig he’d grown so accustomed to seeing on her.

“I missed this,” he said, taking an auburn lock between his forefinger and thumb.

“Me, too,” she told him.

“Laura,” he said, his gravely voice dropping even lower, his eyes questioning her.

“You’re ready to leave,” she said simply.

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“It’s time, Bill,” she said.

Realization dawned on his face and she could see the mix of his emotions, the fear and anger, innate human   
survival instinct, war with relief and acceptance of what was to come. She framed his face with her hands. Her   
thumbs wiped away the moisture at his eyes and she leaned down and kissed him softly once again.

“That’s why I’m here,” she said.

“How?” he asked.

She tapped at his chest, her mouth drawn into a tight line.

“It’s your heart,” she told him. “It’s decided it’s had enough.”

“When?”

“Soon. Tonight. But I’ll be here. And then we can leave together.”

His head dropped and she held him, whispered into his ear as his body shook. She understood the realization of   
death, knew all too well the helplessness that comes with it whether you’re ready for it or not.

“Where were you going?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I watched you,” she said. “You packed up your site. Where were you going?”

He searched her face, silent, almost reluctant to say. She nodded her head in encouragement.

“I’m tired,” he said. “I was leaving.”

“Where were you going?”

He stared at her, so much love and so much loss etched on his face. He looked down, took her hand in his again,   
and placed it on his chest, against his dying heart.

“I don’t know,” he said finally.

“Are you still a believer, Bill?”

“In you? Always.”

“Then walk with me,” she said. “Let’s see what’s left of that sunset.”

* * *

They left his body on the top of the mountain, facing the west. He wasn’t sure how he was still able to fly the Raptor,   
but he’d learned not to question anything anymore.

They flew over the plains one last time before heading out into the atmosphere. The cabin grew dark and millions of   
stars appeared in the windows, creating a familiar sense of home for both of them.

He programmed the course to the sun and turned on the autopilot before they moved into the back. They sat on the   
floor, faced away from the cockpit window. She sat cushioned against him, her head against his shoulder and his   
arms around her waist, and listened as his voice rumbled in her ear.

“It shouldn’t take long. We’ll be able to tell as we’re getting closer. The light will be blinding.”

“We don’t need to worry about those sorts of things anymore,” she said.

“I suppose not,” he said, chuckling.

“You never built the cabin,” she remarked.

“I’m an old man,” he said. “Too old to compensate for the lack of proper tools and material. Besides, without you there,   
it wouldn’t have been the same.”

“Are you afraid?” she asked.

“With you? Never.”

She twined her fingers with his and pulled his arms tighter around her. She thought she’d missed living, but what she’d   
really missed was living with _him_.

“What’s it like where we’re going?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

* * *  
end

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Dashakay for looking this over on such short notice, giving me the thumbs up, and   
> being a great support all-around. Love ya, dear!


End file.
